


Rival Chefs Au

by shanksmuseum



Category: Glee
Genre: A love/hate thing going on, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Frottage, Hate Sex, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanksmuseum/pseuds/shanksmuseum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is the chef of a restaurant run by Sue who informs him he's getting a sous chef. Someone Kurt knew back in cooking school. Blaine Anderson, rival in talent and cuisine extraordinaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rival Chefs Au

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: A little bit of blood and unreal knowledge of how a restaurant kitchen works.

"This is bullshit!"

"Kurt, calm down!"

"No! This is ridiculous! You can't do this! You cannot do this, especially to me y-"

"I'm the owner."

"But you-"

"I do what I want."

"Miss Sylvester!"

"Look, Porcelain, I like you, I like your work and you're the best chef anyone can ask for. But this is my restaurant and I will not put it in jeopardy because of your overcooked ego."

"I have a sous-chef already!"

"You have Sam! He doesn't count! You hired him to look pretty and to deal with the customers when they complain!"

"My customers never complain!"

"I hired you a sous-chef and there is really nothing you can do about it."

"Fine! He better know how to cook! Who is he?"

"Blaine Anderson. I'm told h-."

"Oh, no."

"What now?"

"No, no, no! I will not have that rat in my kitchen!"

"Hummel-"

"No!"

Kurt was just about to rant and rave about pride and dignity when Quinn, the head waitress, stepped through the dinning room doors.

"Kurt."

"What is it, Quinn?"

"Shut up."

And with that she stuffed a bread roll into his mouth, turned around and walked right back out with another breadbasket. 

"Thif if a kitchfen not a bitch hierarchfy!" 

Sue took the bread from Kurt's mouth, letting it drop in the garbage for failed foods which, Kurt prided himself on, was rarely full since he let no one in his kitchen mess up.

That was until his sauce maker got paid off by rival restaurants to sabotage the place. 

Knifes were stolen, orders were cancelled, food was being tarnished with cinnamon, no less. For two weeks the place had been a disaster but Kurt had handled it, he had gotten the place back on its feet.

But, according to Sue, they needed an extra edge to get back on top. Apparently, that edge was named Blaine Anderson, Kurt's biggest competition in cooking school.

Kurt was a perfectionist, so from the start he made sure he could do everything in the kitchen, perform every task. So he spent years practicing and forcing himself to do the grunt-work so that when he did finally become a chef and ran his own kitchen, he would know every single trick.

He honed his talents and abilities to every possible action so from the start he had that extra thing that would make him brilliant. He was the greatest student in cooking school and everyone knew it.

But then Blaine came along in his third year, with already six years of cooking lessons, three of those years with him teaching them before he turned twenty. 

He was talented and in the chef business talent was never enough and tended to screw you over but not Blaine. He put in as much work as Kurt and even if he couldn't do everything like Kurt did, what he did do was exceptional. 

For two years they were at each other's throat, desperate to come out on top and leave school knowing they were the best student.

But, as it were, two months before graduation their fighting and competition got them kicked out.

After that, Kurt never heard from him again, he found out Blaine had succeeded big time in Boston but he refused to learn anything else, only thriving to he himself succeed in New York.

And he did. By the time he was twenty-three he had gotten his diploma and worked in all the greatest kitchens in New York until, finally, he was offered the dream job.

Chef in one of the best, reopened, restaurants in the city. He got paid less, sure, but he got to pick and choose his own team and train them to his and the restaurant's standard of perfection.

In less than four months Panvenlo's was up to every star and review, keeping a picture perfect reputation throughout the city and a nine months in advance booking.

For two years everything ran smoothly and Kurt couldn't have been happier, he may not have had any inkling of a life outside the kitchen but he already had a full retirement plan at twenty-five.

Everything was on track. Until this.

"I do not want Blaine Anderson in my kitchen."

"Yeah, well I own your ass and the kitchen it's standin' in so you have no choice, Hummel. He will be starting tonight."

"You're putting him in the dinner rush!? He's not even trained!"

"You know damn well he's trained and capable of being brilliant here."

"Then why isn't he in Boston being a successful chef... oh wait, let me guess, he tanked, didn't he?"

"No, the place was burned to the ground."

Kurt snorted.

"He burned down his job?"

"No, there was a fire. He was actually the one who saved everyone in the building."

Kurt grimaced. This was not turning in his favor, at all.

"Am I still in charge?"

"Yes, for the love of god, Kurt, you are still the head White Hat. He will be your second in command."

"What about Sam?"

"He can't cook to save his life, he's only good for PR. He can stay but he's not allowed anywhere near the food."

"But-"

"No buts, the lemon head burned the tagliatelle. No one is supposed to even be able to burn pasta. It's freaking pasta!"

With that, Sue walked out of the kitchen leaving a distraught and irritated Kurt behind.

Clapping his hands together, Kurt turned towards his staff.

"Alright, listen up, people. We have a newbie coming in and it's customary to welcome any new employee with open arms and first bite at leftover food. Not this time, my friends. I want you to make him _miserable_. He's stepping into my world now and I want it to spin out from under him, you got that?"

Everyone in the kitchen cheered and hooted, spoons were banged against pans and fists were thrown in the air. Exactly what Kurt wanted to hear.

"Back to work, minions."

Kurt turned around to see Sue standing there, apparently having sneaked back in. She leaned in close to him,

"You better not screw this up, Bourdain."

Kurt smirked, whispering right back,

"I'm just making sure he'll get a nice welcome."

~-~-~

"Hi! You must be Blaine!"

Kurt froze, mid seasoning to spin around, not before turning off the burners. He couldn't see _him_ , Brittany blocking his view.

Kurt scowled at the back of her head, he told himself it was because she was obviously being nice to him, not because he couldn't see Blaine because of her.

He would never admit it, even to himself, but back in cooking school he'd had the biggest crush on Blaine. For his cooking, yes, but also for him and his, albeit cocky, still adorable personality.  

The fact that he was gorgeous also didn't help.

Kurt remembered clearly how amazing it was to watch him cook, he was naturally talented but his work ethic and passion made him great. Far beyond anyone else, other than Kurt, in all their classes.

The jealousy between them had always been present, but behind it there was still mutual admiration and, yes, maybe a little bit of lust.

Kurt gritted his teeth, jamming the knife he had been using to cut the herbs in the counter before heading towards them.

He knew the noise would get their attention but he didn't check, only making his way as gracefully and carefully as he possibly could while whipping his hands on his less-than-white chef's uniform and passing between flipping meat and flying knifes.

When he did finally look up he almost lost his footing because _fuck_. Blaine was smiling at him. There was a part of it that was smirky and cocky but mostly irritatingly charming and disarming as all hell.

He looked good. He looked very good. But Kurt didn't let anything show, only raising an eyebrow at Blaine's extended hand in greeting.

"Go wash your hands and get dressed, the dinner crowd will be here in 45 minutes and I don't want to spend too much time dealing with getting you _settled in_."

"Oh, Kurt. Don't worry about me, I'll settle in just fine. I'm used to running a kitchen."

Kurt barely contained his snarl.

"I am running this one, you're only here to hold my knifes."

"Would you like me to sharpen them for you or can you use your claws?"

Brittany squealed and clapped her hands.

"Oh, this is exciting! You two are so entertaining!"

Santana came in at that moment, coming up next to Brittany and giving Blaine the once over with her signature sneer. Kurt knew she was faking it for his benefit. 

"Who's entertaining, Brit?"

"These two!"

"Already at each other's throats, eh? It would be better without the clothes."

"Of course not," Kurt reassured, falsely sweet, "only introducing ourselves. After all, it's been years since we last saw each other, I'm sure things have changed. Like maybe his talent shriveled up and burned."

Kurt knew it was low of him, but Blaine took it in stride. Turning to Santana with a huge grin, reaching out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Blaine Anderson, it's nice to meet the lovely ladies that will be running the war out there."

Kurt scoffed, but he knew just how effective saying things like that could be. Blaine was making all the right moves and it pissed him off.

"Santana Lopez, I'm the hostess and you're annoyingly charming for someone I'm supposed to hate."

Blaine smirked, turning towards Kurt with a mocking head tilt.

"Is that so?"

"Sue has a thing against curly haired arrogant asses," Kurt jeered back, placing a hand on his hip.

"I think he has a lovely ass," Brittany piped up, obviously staring down at Blaine's behind and for a moment Kurt wished he could do the same.

Blaine, sweet as ever, smiled at her and responded in kind, "Why thank you... what did you say your name was again?"

"Oh, I didn't, hi, I'm Brittany."

"What a lovely name! So fitting for a beautiful girl like you!" He praised, taking her hand and actually kissing her knuckles. 

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Santana and Kurt said at the same time. 

"Say, Kurt, would you mind showing me to the changing room? Seeing as this is your kitchen I would love to be shown around by the master chef."

Kurt had to admit he was impressed by Blaine's little show. Despite the words, the tone was not in the least sarcastic, it was only in the eyes that Kurt could see the mockery.

Kurt didn't bother responding, only turning around and walking towards the back room for the personnel. He didn't check to see if Blaine was either following or watching as he punched in the code and stepped in.

But Blaine was there and he managed to slip in behind Kurt's unheld door.

"Well, this is it. Change here, wash your hands there and once you're done gelling your helmet down some more, make sure to put on the cap."

"That's funny, considering no one else out there was wearing one."

Kurt turned to him, smiling extra bright.

"You get special privileges."

He was going to leave, then, but Blaine sidestepped him, coming in front of him, blocking his way out.

"Hey, just... I'm sorry, about this."

Kurt was taken aback. He wasn't expecting remorse, let alone an apology.

"I bet you are."

He didn't mean for it to sound venomous but he wasn't expecting this, he didn't know how to react.

"I'm serious, I know how hard you worked for this, I've been following your career. I know how tough it is to get and hold a chef position, especially in this town and I can promise you I'm not here to take it from you."

Kurt bit his lip, wavering under Blaine's annoyingly earnest gaze.

"Then why did you take the job?"

"Because I'd get to work wit... in the city. Boston was nice but it sure isn't New York. Look, you can fight me all you want but just know I'm not here to steal anything from you."

"Fine."

Blaine stopped him again, putting his hands on Kurt's biceps.

"Hey, I'm serious. I will be a brat and I will give you a run for your money but I will neither quit or try and screw you over. I'm here to help, not fuck it up for you."

Kurt let out a breath. Positively ignoring the sentence "screw you over" and it's double entendre and nodding firmly.

"Alright. But I'm going to make this hell for you."

Blaine laughed, letting his arms drop, leaving Kurt feeling strangely heavier.

"That's fine with me, chef. I wouldn't have expected anything else."

"Yeah, yeah, come on, newbie, I got some things to show and torture you with."

Kurt led him out, stepping back into the kitchen and ready to go through the rush that is Friday night dinners. 

That night the place was booked full and there were two simultaneous parties of over ten coming.

Two of the waitresses were out sick and his pastry chef was barely recovering from a cold. He'd had to stick two helpers on him, leaving him an incomplete staff.

Despite everything, having an extra hand, even if it was Blaine, would work in his favor.

Everything started out fine, the kitchen running smoothly. Even through the chaos the place was a well oiled machine. Everyone had been working together long enough to know the dance, fitting together in perfect, loud, harmony.

That evening the special was all Kurt, one of his own recipes and he was looking forward to hearing the feedback from either the waiters or the patrons themselves.

Which was why the shocking let down was so harsh when he was informed no one at either of the two party tables wanted fish.

They had a menu, and everyone in the kitchen knew how to make everything on it, however, without enough interested customers, the special would have to be pulled.

Immediately he set to creating a new menu, already prepared for any let down. He felt offended, for sure, but he knew better than to let it block him.

But, as he came back from his office with all new ideas ready and in check, his heart dropped.

All he needed to see was the look on his employees faces. Something was wrong. They look abashed and embarrassed. 

Kurt turned his gaze to the main grill, where, low and behold, Blaine was yelling out orders and preparing something that was certainly _not_ on the menu.

Furious, Kurt was ready to storm over to him and appearances be damned, he wasn't going to be out-shined by Anderson.

But Sue was suddenly there, standing in his path.

"Hummel, stay."

"Wh-"

"Blaine suggested a special while you were back there doing god knows what."

Kurt was ready to protest, yell, scream, anything, but Sue made sure to keep him quiet by cutting him off before he could even try.

"No, I don't want to hear it. He ran one of the best places in all of Boston and his dishes are extraordinary. That's why I picked him to work with you, you two could make culinary miracles."

"So you let him take over?"

Kurt's voice was rising but this was betrayal.

"I let him take the lead for one dish."

"It's the special! The _chef_ is the one who sets the special! You know that!"

"It's one night, Hummel, one special."

"It's my goddamn job!"

By then, everyone in the kitchen was watching them. Even the waitresses weren't leaving with their dishes, all standing around for the show.

"You listen here, Porcelain. You do not get to dictate what happens in this restaurant. You may run the kitchen but I make the final ruling, not you. He was there and he offered a solution and I took it. It was a business decision and guess what, you don't run that either. So either you tough it up and get back to work or we're going to have a problem here."

Kurt was anything but okay and the pressure behind his eyes was even more infuriating than the situation because he did not let shit like this get to him, but he knew what he had to do.

"Fine."

He turned to Blaine, his gaze cold and murderous,

"What do you need me to do?"

Blaine had the decency to look apologetic but the time for drama was over and they had a lot of people to feed. The food always comes first in the kitchen and they both knew it.

"The veal needs to be marinated, use the oldest wine we've got so it absorbs faster since we don't have time to let it settle."

"Fine."

With that he turned on his heals and headed to the cellar. Once he got there he picked out the bottle and let himself have one moment of emotion, as he called them. Just one moment where the kitchen took a backseat.

He brought a hand to his mouth, trying to keep in any sobs and hoping they wouldn't come. In the end he didn't cry but he did find the strength to face the music.

Heading back upstairs, he ignored everyone and got straight to work. He didn't want to see any of their pitying glances and even if _he_ knew the food came first, the taste of drama always affected the others.

He was glad Blaine wasn't like that, in that instant. He was already working again and Kurt was able to join in easily, immediately getting to work right by his side.

They got the first plates out in less than ten minutes, already attacking the rest of the course.

Everything went swimmingly until one of the busboys past by too quickly, pushing Kurt right into one of the jambon slicer blades.

Kurt yelled out, doubling up on himself for only a second before he was pressing his dish towel to the cut on his stomach. 

The whole kitchen had stopped in an instant, all turning or rushing over to Kurt.

Gritting his teeth, Kurt straightened back up, mumbled something about putting a bandage on it and walked out. He didn't want anyone coming after him or bothering him so he made sure to not show any pain as he stepped through the backdoor.

The cut was shallow and the blood stopped quickly. What was hurting him however was the shame.

He was a proud man but he was still reasonable. But when it came to Blaine everything hit him harder. It was infuriating. 

No one should have any type of effect on him in the kitchen. Cooking was his thing and nobody was supposed to interfere, especially not another chef.

Kurt leaned against the sink with one arm, pressing the other to the wound. Quickly, he undid his chef's vest and carefully removed it. Keeping his balance against the sink.

The stretch was a little painful, but nothing he hadn't dealt with before. However, when he tried to remove the second arm from the sleeve he let a small yelp as pain flared up his chest.

Suddenly, someone was there holding him steady as his head spun for a moment. He wasn't surprised when he turned his head to see Blaine there, looking honestly worried.

"I'm fine."

"No, Kurt, you're not. You're hurt, you can let someone help, you know."

Kurt scoffed, the irony hitting him.

Blaine slowly and carefully pulled the vest down his other arm, mindful of pulling on the wound.

Kurt's undershirt was cut open where the blade had reached him. He refused to admit his breath hitched as Blaine ran his finger tips along the edge of it, moving to pull up the shirt a little to see the cut.

Before he could stop it, Kurt's wrist had shot down to grab Blaine's, causing another burst of pain. He groaned, letting his eyes close.

He felt Blaine roll the shirt up a bit to get a good look. Kurt almost whimpered as he saw Blaine get down on his knees so examine the cut.

Kurt was sure Blaine could tell how fast he was breathing because his stomach was following the rhythm. 

"Blaine..."

"Shush, let me take a look."

"It's nothing."

"I won't take any chances on the count of your bravery."

Kurt scoffed, groaning again at the pull it caused.

"Does it need stitches?"

"No, I think you're good."

"Oh, you think, huh?"

Blaine pressed his thumb into his hipbone, where his hand was placed and Kurt swallowed a gasp. Not daring to look down.

Suddenly there was a cold wetness pressed against the injury, Blaine was using a damp cloth to clean off the remaining blood.

"You don't have to do this," Kurt whispered, simultaneously wishing he was anywhere else but there and hoping he could stay forever.

"I'm so sorry."

Kurt finally looked down, eyebrows knitting together.

"It wasn't your fault in the leas-"

"I'm sorry I did exactly what I told you, what I promised myself I wouldn't do. I didn't mean to take the special. I swear to you it wasn't my intention."

Blaine was looking up at him, eyes wide and bright. How he managed to take Kurt's breath away so easily with just one look, he didn't understand.

"It's fine."

Kurt bit his lip at how angry he sounded. He didn't feel mad anymore, annoyed yes, but not mad.

His breathing picked up again as Blaine got up, standing right in front of him.

"I stole your special."

Kurt swallowed thickly.

"What are you doing."

"I stole your special and put mine forward."

"I had moved on, what are you doing."

It was like Blaine was baiting him.

"They didn't want yours so I took my chance and offered my veal dish."

"Stop it."

"I. Took. Your. Special."

Kurt pressed his palms against Blaine's chest and pushed him away, but Blaine stepped right back up.

"What are you doing? Stop it! Why are you trying to piss me off!?"

"Come on, Kurt, I stole your thunder, I took your damn spe-"

"I know! Shut up!"

Blaine grabbed his arms, trying to get him to look back at him.

Kurt tried to fight him off.

"Get off, stop this!"

"Kurt!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Kurt was against the personnel lockers, chest heaving. He was confused and hurt. He didn't understand why Blaine was pushing him like this.

"I took this from you."

"Fuck off!"

Kurt was pushing at him again, every time ending back against the cold metal of the lockers. He was angry but he knew he was being forced into that feeling. 

"Get mad!"

"Why!?"

He was yelling, they both were.

"Because you want to! Because you need to! Cooking is about agility and creativity, but it's also fire and passion! Let it out!"

Kurt slapped him. He knew Blaine wasn't insulting his cooking, maybe the way he held himself, but nothing more. He was trying to get a rise out of him so Kurt gave in.

"Fuck you!"

"Come on, Kurt!"

"Don't you dare tell me how to run my kitchen!"

Blaine pushed at his shoulder until Kurt could feel the chill of the surface through his undershirt. But his skin was burning, a mix of anger and irritation and _more_.

Blaine was under his skin, just like he had been in school. This whole time Kurt kept him there, always wishing for more. He didn't understand it because he was supposed to _hate_ Blaine.

Kurt wanted to scream at him, he wanted to destroy his career, be petty and mess with him. He wanted to fight him and win.

But instead, he was suddenly pulling him against him, crashing his lips violently to his.

In an instant, Blaine was kissing him back, pushing him against the lockers like a starving man. Kurt gripped at his hair, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss desperately.

He had never felt more alive and on fire. Blaine hands were digging into the skin of his neck, the other winding around his waist to pull his against him while still pressing him into the metallic wall.

Kurt couldn't breathe but he didn't want to, he just needed more. He tried to open his mouth wider, fighting with Blaine over the motions. It was messy and hot, leaving the air thick with it.

Blaine's hands were trailing down his spine, making him arch up against him, his touch was burning him through the material that he gripped before slamming him against the lockers.

Kurt moaned loudly as Blaine attached his mouth to his neck, not wasting any time or teasing before sucking at the damp skin. 

Kurt let his head hit the cold wall as he let his finger dance around Blaine's back, feeling the muscles shift as Blaine changed sides on his neck. Blaine almost bit him when Kurt shifted his hips and thrust them forward sharply.

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine panted into his neck before responding to Kurt's hips with his own, rutting against him. 

It was slow and deliberate and Kurt felt like he was heating up inside and out as Blaine looked him right in the eyes for a moment before kissing him again.

Everything accelerated again and soon Kurt yelled out as he felt Blaine's hands cup his ass, hauling him up until he was holding him against the lockers. He hissed into the kiss at the pain from his cut but he ignored it.

Their lips slid together messily as Kurt wrapped his legs around Blaine's waist, thighs clamping down as he raised his arms above his head, gripping the top of the locker's edges to thrust his hips forward.

Kurt's mouth fell open at the friction, he watched in awe as Blaine's eyes grew even darker as he pressed roughly against him, grinding his hips up in sharp movements.

"Oh, god, oh. Blaine!"

His arms were straining but the leverage was incredible to fuck harder against him, their hips moving together sharply.

"Fuck."

Blaine was quickly pressing into him harder, his back suddenly straight against the metallic wall, permitting his arms to wrap around Blaine's neck as he panted into his hair, already ridiculously close.

The whole row of lockers was moving with their thrusts and Blaine's moans of his name and _fuck_ were getting louder with each sharp coup. 

"Come on, Blaine. Oh god!"

Kurt was arching against Blaine, head turning sharply to the side as he shouted for _more_ , _harder_ , _faster_.

Blaine was licking and sucking at his neck again, trying to keep up the rhythm but failing as he got closer. It got desperate and rougher, the pleasure making both of them grab on harshly, trying to get the other there first.

Blaine was the one who broke first, screaming out his orgasm against Kurt's throat.

Kurt groaned when he felt Blaine's cock pulsing through their clothes, finally letting the pleasure take over. His neck bent back impossibly far, silently yelling out as he came long and hard, feeling his whole body crash with it. The intensity was overwhelming, making him tremble for the longest time. 

Blaine was panting against him, everything felt hot and sticky but the last thing he wanted to do was move. Blaine's hands were still gripping his thighs and holding him close.

Still breathing loudly, Kurt turned his head, sealing his lips to Blaine's in a bruising kiss, immediately opening his mouth up. He didn't want this to be a one time thing, a moment of rough passion after a fight.

And the way Blaine responded was enough to tell him that he wasn't the only one hoping for that.

" _Kurt_." Blaine murmured against his lips, sounding wrecked.

"Gentleman, I'm so glad you're getting along better and solved your artistic differences but we have customers to please. We can't give them such loud orgasms but be sure can feed them fantastic food if our chefs would so kindly join us in the kitchen!"

Kurt groaned as Blaine laughed, letting him slip back down from the lockers. His legs felt weak and his heart still wasn't returning to normal, but he felt amazing.

He stepped up to Blaine, kissing him deeply again, content at feeling Blaine's arms wrap tightly around his neck as his own snaked around Blaine's waist.

"Mmhm, we need to get back out there," Kurt whispered as Blaine kept kissing him.

"I'd rather stay here forever."

"I do have a rather nice apartment you know."

"Yes, yes that sounds lovely, let's go there."

"No, Blaine, later. We have to go back to work. I'm told there are people waiting for food."

"They're stupid, they're taking away my joy."

"Oh that's mature, mister chef."

"Sous-chef."

"My sous-chef."

"Yes."

With one final kiss, Kurt lead them back out. Enjoying the red on Blaine's cheeks as everyone cheered and catcalled, having obviously all been pressed against the door listening only moments ago.

Kurt slapped Blaine's ass and clapped his hands together, trying not to let the ridiculous grin he had on take over his face as he yelled out,

"All right, come on, people! The night just started! We got some work to do!"


End file.
